Every year, on the same day, another one appeared: a black dahlia.
She had almost run out of space to put them around her villa.
Each year the perennials re-sprouted, a forest of dark bloomage that shrouded her white walls.
The shadow they cast she could not escape. The blackness in her heart was embodied in their display. She kept them as a reminder.
Someone knew what she had done.
She opened the door and saw the new arrival. This one was red, the same colour as the blood on her hands.
The gunshot echoed around the white walls.
Written as part of the Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (more details HERE). The idea is to write a short story of 100 words based on the photo prompt (above).
To read stories of 100 words based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.
My first novel, ‘A Justified State,’ is available now
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